


Signed in stitches

by LittleLinor



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Bloodplay, Consensual Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3866206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the reality of war is finally behind them, Sora starts relearning himself, his inner violence, and how it intersects with love.</p><p>Mostly non-sexual kink, fluffy as hell, set a couple of years post-canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signed in stitches

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to contribute to this ship, okay?  
> Warning for major self esteem issues and themes related to Sora's past as a child soldier.

"You... you can tie my hands if you want."  
That's how it had all started (as much of a "start" as was possible to pinpoint, anyway), with this sentence that Sora hadn't expected at all, this offer that held more than just the sum of its words.  
Because Sora had been biting his lips when it came, kissing him and _trying_ to keep his weird urges at bay but not completely succeeding, and curbing himself with the feeling of Yuuya's lip breaking under his teeth, Yuuya's voice catching on the slightest pain.  
And then this.  
Needless to say, any pretense that he was capable of keeping this relationship normal--butterflies, rainbows, shy kisses, that kind of thing--had gone out of the window pretty fast. And he'd been trying so hard, too.  
(But Yuuya--Yuuya is sweet and fierce and cute and he bares himself so beautifully under Sora's touch, and he can't resist getting a taste)

And it's not like everything had gone without a hitch. He got both too excited and too scared at first, trying shit on impulse and then almost freaking out because _what if he ruined everything_ , but then Yuuya noticed and promised to tell him if he went too far, and as for him, well.  
He began to notice things about _Yuuya_.  
Like the way talking to him seemed to make him both more embarassed and more excited. Like how when he got into it he'd let every reaction come strong and clear, drawn out, like he wants Sora to see and hear every bit of it. Like the shy smile he gave when given time to breathe that made it seem just having Sora's eyes on him made him happy.  
It makes sense, he thinks. It's Yuuya through and through, drawing eyes to him to entertain, even through pain and fear.  
Sora is, he has to admit, a very enraptured audience.

Yuuya's blood against the paler skin of his chest is candy-red, and Sora's eyes are stuck on it, his tongue licking his lips as he tries to keep his gaze on Yuuya's face, to keep cutting and do things properly instead of acting like the 12 year old he was when he met Yuuya and had even less impulse control than he does now.  
_Come on, Sora, don't do it.  
Oh fuck that._  
He bends forward and runs his tongue up Yuuya's chest to catch the trail of blood from its lowest drop to the small cut it started from, and Yuuya arches into it a little and moans, blushing when Sora comes back up with a grin.  
"... I thought you liked sweet things," he mutters, eyes falling under Sora's gaze.  
"But you're sweet, thouuugh. It totally counts."  
Yuuya pouts and he _laughs_ , almost high on how weirdly happy he feels, on the excited buzzing in his veins.  
"It looks good on you, too," he sings, pressing his fingers against the cut skin, making Yuuya's blood well up against his fingers and Yuuya's voice rise up again. "Goes with your hair." He moves a little closer, until he can feel Yuuya's breath on his face. "And your eyes."  
They open right on cue, like they're following his voice, their red glowing in the dim light.  
Sora kisses him, lets him taste his own blood on Sora's lips.

It makes something in his chest settle down, something thick and deep and calm like the depth of the ocean. The touch and taste of Yuuya's mouth is always a treat, but _taking_ it like this, with Yuuya at his mercy with his hands tied, being gentle when he has it in his power to do _anything_ but chooses not to, _that_ makes him sink deep, like nothing else in the world matters, like Yuuya is the only thing that matters to his senses. It's like pure, dizzying oxygen on his lungs, like pressure on his skin.  
He kisses him again.  
Yuuya breathes out his name when he pulls away, and he finds himself giggling and bites his lip again, drawing more blood.  
"Yuuuyaa," he calls back, drawing out every sound and smiling wider when Yuuya swallows and pants lightly against his skin. He presses a hand against his chest, fingers spread out. "I'm going to taste more. Can't stop at one drop, right? You'll look great."  
Yuuya nods quietly. Sora smiles, still letting the feeling settle into his skin.  
He grabs his knife from the nightstand again and pauses, inspecting Yuuya's chest. Working it this way isn't exactly a skill he's as fluent in as he'd like; the classes he'd had on knives years ago had focused on how to maim or kill, if one was isolated and their disk taken. Exactly the opposite priority from what he's trying to do now.  
And he has to be careful. Humans can't be sewn back together like stuffed animals. As much as he loves toying with Yuuya, he can't afford to _harm_ him (he can't stand the thought, now).  
But he's read up, and practiced a bit on himself, and hey, knowing where to strike when you're trying to kill is also useful when you need to know where to avoid.  
He'll be fine.  
He'll be fine.  
Blades are his specialty, after all.

He twirls the knife in his hand before gripping it in position, and grins when Yuuya's eyebrows go up.  
"Whaaaat?"  
"... nothing." Yuuya smiles. "You show-off."  
"I get it from you, remember. You've only got yourself to blame." He tilts Yuuya's chin with his free hand, and bends close to his face again. "Ladies and gentlemen," he teases in a whisper, "tonight I'm treating you to a special performance."  
He half-expects Yuuya to snort, but instead he gets Yuuya's large, red eyes looking up at him quietly, Yuuya's chest rising slowly under his with breath that breaks on his lips, closed and pinched like he's biting them from the inside. Slow, deep, expectant, like Yuuya's been pulled into the same feeling that has been running in Sora's body for the last few minutes.  
"... and you're the star of the show," he adds, a bit too breathless to be perfectly smooth. "Yuu-ya..." he breathes out.  
Yuuya's head tilts back with a slight gasp, and it sends a shard of want through Sora's chest. He wants to see more of it, hear more of it. Yuuya's body arching into his touch. Yuuya's breath catching on the tip of his knife. Yuuya's voice when he screams.  
He _wants_.

 _Careful._  
He makes himself move back so he can keep a proper watch on his hands. Leaving Yuuya's face leaves a kind of void in his chest, but from there he can not only see Yuuya's chest properly, but his face too. It works.  
"Ready?" he asks, licking his lips.  
Yuuya shudders and nods.

The first cut had been a test, just a small incision to check that he could keep control and that Yuuya didn't want to change his mind once the knife was actually on him. This time, though, he hooks the tip of his knife into the skin at the top of his sternum, looks back up at Yuuya's eyes one last time to check on him (how he wants to just _keep them there_ and watch Yuuya come apart, fuck), then looks back down and draws the blade down his body slowly, cutting a line of red down his chest.  
It's barely more than a scratch, just enough to draw blood, but Yuuya whimpers anyway and calls out Sora's name, voice shaking, head tilting back again.  
Sora takes a shaky breath of his own and keeps cutting, past the bottom of his sternum, all the way to the higher parts of his stomach, stopping barely a hand's width above his navel.  
" _Sora_ ," Yuuya calls again as the knife lifts, quiet and desperate, and it takes Sora's damn breath away.  
"Yuuya," he murmurs back, part wonder and part answer. Under him, Yuuya's chest is split in two by a thin line of welling blood, its droplets beading at the surface.  
He wants to touch, smear, paint him as red as his eyes, but part of him also wants to leave it pristine and untouched, to just keep going until Yuuya's body is covered in pure red lines.  
Yuuya shudders and kickstarts his decision. He can't go without touching him.  
"I'm here," he says quietly, pressing his hand on Yuuya's stomach right under the end of the line. A bit of blood spills with the change in pressure and runs towards his fingers.  
"And I was right," he adds, breathless despite his attempt to laugh. "You do look great like that."  
Yuuya blushes and looks away, but a mere second later his eyes are coming back up to meet Sora's, filled with that quiet vulnerability that urges him to go on.  
Sora smiles, puts the knife down safely again, and drags the fingers of his other hand up Yuuya's chest, never touching the cut.  
"It's like I'm cutting you open," he whispers, and for a second his mask falls, fear crushing his throat, because what if that was too much, what if Yuuya remembers he's actually kind of a monster, but Yuuya just bites his lip and looks up at him, his breath quickening.  
Sora takes a deep breath to center himself, rubbing his fingertips against the anchor of Yuuya's skin.  
"... Sora?"  
"I'm okay." He is. He can't deny the edge of fascination or desire behind his words, but Yuuya doesn't hate him for it. Yuuya knows him, and he's still there.  
He's stopped caring about anyone else's opinion.

He caresses Yuuya's stomach with his bloody hand, before brushing the bottom of the cut with his fingertips.  
It brings a little moan out of Yuuya, and he arches up a little, pressing more blood out of the cut and against Sora's fingers.  
And just like that, he feels it again, the delicious wonder that had set his mouth so loose in the first place. Just with Yuuya's body and blood moving into his touch. He smiles, takes a slow, deep breath, and brushes his fingers up the cut.  
"Sora--" Yuuya gasps out.  
"Yeees?" He presses a bit harder as he moves, and Yuuya whines and breathes in sharply. "Yuu-yaa," he hums, "it's barely a scrape. You're enjoying it this much already?"  
Yuuya whines again, his chest quivering and pressing subtly into Sora's touch.  
"Well," Sora smiles as his fingers reach the end of the line. "I'll just have to do more, then."  
He swipes his index finger across the collected blood and brings it up to his face, grinning at Yuuya and making sure he's watching before licking it off playfully.  
It's light and slightly salty and the taste seems to spread itself over his tongue, and he'd never thought he'd enjoy it that much before, but he thinks he's coming to enjoy this particular taste of Yuuya's very much.  
"Just like I said. Totally sweet. Even when you're not supposed to be." He takes another swipe, tastes it again, takes care to let just a bit drip on his lip. Yuuya's not the only one with a flair for show. "And it's a treat just for me, too! Really too kind."  
Yuuya snorts gently and Sora feels his cheeks heat up, not from embarassment but from the burn of his face muscles forcing him to smile wider than he already did, with no calculation whatsoever.  
"You're terrible," Yuuya chuckles.  
"But you enjoy that, right? Dragging me all the way here." Dragging him through dimensions just to make him smile again.  
"Because it was you."  
And it's Sora's breath that gets knocked away.  
"I wanted _you_ back. I wanted to save Yuzu and my other friends... but I wanted the happy Sora back."  
It grounds him, as strongly as it did back then, as violently as it shook the ground under his feet before that. This feeling that nothing he could do would make Yuuya stop caring.  
He smiles slightly, despite himself, and bends a little closer to him, resting his palm on his scratch.  
"You stubborn dork..." he murmurs. "Stop messing up my cues," he adds, teasingly licking the tip of his nose before kissing him, deep and more passionate than he'd planned to. Finding safety in the touch and taste of his mouth, again.  
Sometimes, he feels like the Sora who smiles, the Sora sitting right here with such a fire burning inside him, is someone Yuuya created entirely. A creature of his imagination, brought to life by the power of his belief.  
He's not sure he really cares.  
Yuuya's tongue brushes against his shyly, and his entire skin itches and burns with the want to make him scream his name.

It takes him a couple of minutes of heated kissing to tear himself from Yuuya's mouth, and he's pretty sure his shirt has started soaking up Yuuya's blood by then. Not that he minds. The idea gives him a little thrilled shudder, this image of Yuuya's blood on him.  
Yuuya's eyes flick to his chest when he sits up, confirming his suspicions and making him grin.  
"Don't worry," he says, "I know how to get it off."  
And it should be mildly worrying, maybe, but neither of them mentions it.  
Instead he reaches for the knife on the nightstand again and observes Yuuya's chest, aimlessly trailing the tip of his knife around it, blunt face down.  
"So, where should I go next... I want you to look pretty, you know--oh." He pushes his bangs aside and grins. "I know."  
He bends a little closer and brings his knife close to Yuuya's collarbone, leaving a little room between them to avoid being too close to the network of blood vessels underneath the bone. No need to take useless risks, he thinks.  
A few centimetres under it is enough for what he wants to do, anyway.  
"Since you're being so enthusiastic," he says, touching the blade to the skin without cutting, "I'll let you choose. Just a little scratch like the other one, or do you want me to cut more?"  
Yuuya blushes and blinks.  
"Why me?"  
"It's your body," he says with a wink, before smiling more earnestly, more hungrily. "And if I'm going to cut more, I want you to _ask for it._."  
Yuuya's eyes flick away, but Sora catches his chin, gently, not even pulling but tilting just barely to make him look back at him.  
"Your choice, Yuuya."  
Yuuya breathes in, shudders slightly, then swallows before answering.  
"... cut me."

The words lodge themselves in his gut, in his veins, sweet and addictive as a sugar high.  
He _knows_ the smile on his face has got to be all kinds of creepy, with how much he feels his own cheeks from the pull of their muscles, how intensely his eyes stay fixated on Yuuya's face, how his breath has sped up in excitement and wonder, but he's past caring because he's so excited and _close_ , close to him like their bloodstreams are interconnected somehow. He bites his own lip, savouring the pleasure of it, the anticipation, this moment of Yuuya's permission, _invitation_ to toy with him and mess his body up just a bit.  
"My pleasure, then..." and then he laughs, unable to contain it. Just a little burst of it escaping through his chest. "Hey, Yuuya? Yuuu-ya, can I make you scream?" Yuuya will stop him if it's too much, he _promised_ , so he can let go, he can ask-- "I want to hear it..."  
Yuuya shudders again, closes his eyes and nods, and Sora has to bite his own lip tighter to stop himself from kissing him again. Instead he keeps his hold on the knife firm, caresses his cheek with his fingertips until his eyes open again, and presses his hand flat on his chest to stop him from moving before turning the sharp edge back on Yuuya's skin and pressing down.

This time he lets the blade slice through the upper levels of skin, and blood wells up quicker instead of beading as it had earlier. It hugs the edge of Sora's knife as he moves it down, slowly, keeping his eyes on Yuuya's face while he can afford to.  
And Yuuya breathes tense and shallow under his hand, doing his best not to move but still a bit too wide-eyed not to be thinking about what Sora just asked him, about what Sora's about to do.  
He smiles wider and answers him through actions, drawing the knife slowly but surely down a line that started at his collarbone and leads to his nipple.

It takes a couple of seconds for Yuuya's mind to piece the threat together, and then his eyes widen, disbelief then _fear_ , snapping back up to Sora's own, and if that isn't the most beautiful expression he's ever seen on Yuuya's face, he doesn't know what is. His body starts trembling, almost struggling under Sora's hand, and he presses it down harder, a wordless reminder not to move as much as a reassurance. And his voice, that he'd been keeping almost silent since Sora started cutting by sucking on his own lips, rises again, little pained, scared whimpers that keep getting cut by his irregular breathing.  
It's so good.  
He draws closer and watches Yuuya dissolve, his breath catching more the lower Sora's knife cuts, his voice twisting into almost-cries, increasingly pleading, desperate (and yet he still doesn't call for Sora to stop), his eyes growing wide and frantic. Sora's own eyes flick up and down, checking his progress for safety but refusing to let go of Yuuya's face, of the emotions on it. It's too precious, too beautiful, the way every line tenses and untenses to try and handle the pain and fear. He murmurs Yuuya's name, cuts ever closer. Reaches almost a hair's breadth away from the areola.  
Yuuya squeezes his eyes shut and sobs out his name in a half-choked cry, voice breaking on the last sound into what sounds like crying.  
He flips the knife without removing it, pressing the blunt side of the blade against Yuuya's skin instead, and draws it down.  
Yuuya's stomach heaves with a harsh, broken breath, his eyes still squeezed shut. His chest quivers against Sora's hand as he pulls his blade over Yuuya's nipple, smiling at the fact that despite his fear (or maybe because?), it's hardened. He lets the tip of his blade graze just barely as he reaches the end, a kind of playful salute, too light to even scratch the skin.  
By the time he reaches normal skin again, Yuuya's sobbing under his breath, and when Sora flips his knife back to cut again, his eyes open, tears falling.  
He realises he had been holding his own breath.

"Yuuya..." he calls out, more gentle than before, and Yuuya's eyes blink and home in on him again as he cuts down. He's almost silent again, so Sora presses his free hand down on his chest again rather than risk changing what he's doing with his blade, and Yuuya whimpers again, more quietly, as if dazed.  
"You sound great when you're scared," he adds. Yuuya blinks, the words reaching his brain, and bites his lip, giving a little noise of acknowledgement.  
Sora keeps cutting down. Until navel level, he'd told himself, but now there's an edge of frustration itching against his chest. He wants to keep his eyes on Yuuya's face, on the tears there, make sure Yuuya still feels Sora's own feelings coming through his fingers and blade.  
_You can talk_ , he suddenly remembers. _It's not there just for show._  
"... hey, Yuuya?" he asks, more quietly than he likes, dropping the bratty demeanour entirely.  
His blade stopped moving, is lying flat against Yuuya's stomach.  
"Mmm?"  
Yuuya's voice is weak and still tearful, but its sound still calms Sora's heart down.  
"That--that was all right, yeah?" His chest feels a little tight. "I didn't actually cut there, you know--"  
"I know." Sora shuts up and nods, but Yuuya grins weakly, then laughs, mixing it with residual sobs, leftover tears squeezing out of his eyes. "Still scary though."  
"Yeah, well," Sora says, feeling his chest unwind. "That was kind of the point."  
Yuuya smiles, and he finds himself smiling back, then massaging Yuuya's stomach with his fingertips to keep the contact between them. He brushes against the cut down the center of his chest and makes him moan, then presses harder, impulsively, dragging his fingers hard against it just to hear him cry out.  
"... am I doing things right?"  
Yuuya hisses between his teeths. Breathes out.  
"Yeah. Just--keep touching me okay? And--talking to me. So I know you're here."  
_Look at me. Don't let me feel alone._ More words that don't come out of Yuuya's mouth, but he knows they're there anyway. He knows Yuuya well enough by now. And the very fact that Yuuya fears it wakes something fierce and not exactly pretty in his heart, determination as strong as that of battle.  
"Don't worry," he tells Yuuya quietly, reaching up to put the knife down before bending over him again. "I'm much too possessive to leave you alone."  
"Mmm." Yuuya smiles, small but warm and earnest and _trusting_ and it goes straight to Sora's heart.  
He kisses Yuuya again, taking advantage of his free hands to secure Yuuya's head, one burying inside his hair and the other cupping his jaw to tilt his head back. Yuuya moans and arches into him--more blood on Sora's shirt, he absently thinks, all his senses focused on Yuuya's mouth and skin and hair--and his bound hands curl, uncurl, the muscles of Yuuya's arms shifting against Sora's own.  
He presses his weight down to make Yuuya cry out and uses the chance to force himself into Yuuya's mouth, smothering his voice. A show of forcefulness, almost an act, but how else is he supposed to let Yuuya know about the fire in his bloodstream?  
Yuuya surrenders with a quiet moan, and it only makes it burn brighter.  
Maybe he's the one who'll end up crying after all.  
He just keeps kissing him until he's out of breath instead.

Yuuya's dazed and smiling when he pulls back, and his calm spreads through Sora from where his hands still hold Yuuya's head.  
Maybe he's the needy one of the two, he thinks with a chuckle. He should feel offended that Yuuya can reassure him this easily, probably. He's never liked being influenced.  
But it's Yuuya.  
"... so," he says, kissing him again lightly. "Do I get to be even more possessive?"  
Yuuya laughs.  
"That's possible?"  
"You have no idea."  
Yuuya smiles and reaches up with his head to peck his lips.  
"If you want."  
Sora grins.  
"Before that, though..."  
He releases Yuuya's head and slides down his body, stopping only when his head reaches the level of his hips. Like he'd predicted, the blood on the new cut is smeared, but there's already some more showing up at the surface, a line of vibrant red raised above Yuuya's skin.  
He licks his lips, moves down, and runs his tongue over the cut.  
"So--sora--"  
Yuuya's body twitches, a slow whine rising out of his throat when Sora goes back for more, no longer licking with the tip but pressing his entire tongue against Yuuya's skin. He drags it and Yuuya _moans_ , loud and clear, his spine arching off the bed.  
Sora slides one of his hands under Yuuya's chest, presses his mouth to his cut, and sucks.  
"S-- _aaah_ \--"  
The effect is immediate, and Sora wants to keep doing it just to feel Yuuya trembling in his hands. But he moves on, licking and sucking up the line of sliced skin until he reaches the top and Yuuya's nipple, and impulsively wraps his mouth around it to suck at it for a few seconds.  
And then bites.

He had expected a cry, but what comes out of Yuuya's mouth is a small gasp, and a whining hum when Sora pulls and sucks. His body, though, his body curls up into Sora's mouth, Yuuya's head tilting back when Sora slides his hand further behind his back to support him and bites again, harder.  
It's somehow both affected and genuine, a wilful abandon of his dignity for Sora's benefit that still comes from the heart, spurred by his desire to be seen, played, experienced.  
He wonders if Yuuya can tell how much it works, how it feeds his hunger for him and his feelings both. How treasured this aspect of him is. If Yuuya knows, if Yuuya feels safe.  
"So eager," he murmurs, releasing him from his teeth to talk and press a kiss to his nipple instead. "You're always giving your everything, aren't you? Even in duels."  
Yuuya's breath picks up, and Sora smiles against his chest, giving the skin little teasing licks.  
"It's really cute... I always liked that about you."  
"Sora--" His tone is different. Not thoughtless, abandoned calling of his name but something gentle and a little yearning and almost a little alarmed.  
His words are getting through.  
"You're always fun to play with, you know?" He kisses Yuuya's chest, and then straightens, looking down at Yuuya's face with a smile.  
Yuuya looks back up at him, blushing but smiling too.  
"... you have blood on your face," he murmurs after a while.  
It makes Sora giggle and make a show of wiping it off his lips--but off his lips only.  
"So? Do I look good like that?"  
Yuuya laughs, and it makes him grin happily.  
"Come oooon, tell meee..."  
"It fits you."  
Not the answer he was expecting, and not a harmless one either, but he knows those words in Yuuya's mouth are acceptance.  
He reaches down with his hand and swipes part of the blood on the remaining half of the cut with his fingers. But this time, instead of licking it off himself, he offers Yuuya his fingers, pressing them to his lips.  
Rather than just open his mouth, Yuuya smiles up at him and tilts his head up a bit to reach for them with his tongue, licking the blood off.  
Sora's breath catches, a shiver running from his hips and up his spine. Yuuya's eyes shine, and he tilts his chin up further, opening his mouth more so he can reach higher with his tongue, brushing up Sora's fingers until he reaches the edge of his palm, giving a little lap there before sliding his tongue between them and moving back down.  
And Sora is mesmerised. By his face, blushing but sensually relaxed, by his open mouth--in which he's drawing the tips of Sora's fingers, fuck--by his _tongue_ curling around and between and down his fingers.  
He can't tear his eyes off.  
Yuuya releases his fingers with a little suck and a quiet hum and looks at him with half-lidded but still shining eyes, and Sora thinks he's never felt this hungry in his _life_.  
"... you... really know how to catch someone's attention," he murmurs, and his voice is way too breathy and not exactly stable, but he doesn't give a fuck right now, not with Yuuya looking at him like that.  
"I try," Yuuya says with a side smile, and he'll be damned if that wasn't the cutest thing he's seen.  
"... you can clean the rest then," he says, swiping the rest of the blood off the cut and deliberately letting some go on his palm.  
This time he leaves his fingers a little distance away from Yuuya's lips, just to watch him reach up with his mouth. And Yuuya takes his time, sucking on his fingertips first before moving up, trailing his tongue along their length. He gets a little blood on his lips, and Sora finds himself watching _that_ for a while, that streak of red on Yuuya's face, turning his expression into something even more hypnotising, but then Yuuya lets out a little noise and he's biting his lips, angling his hand so Yuuya can reach his palm, close his eyes and lick off the blood just by touch.  
He wants to brand Yuuya's face right into his brain.  
"Yuuya..."  
Yuuya smiles, eyes still closed, and leaves a kiss in the center of Sora's palm before opening them and resting his head back on the pillow.

"You're too good at this," Sora mutters, trying to keep back the urge to kiss him until he chokes. He brushes hair out of Yuuya's face instead, savouring the view as he calms himself down. "It's totally unfair."  
Yuuya chuckles, so Sora bats at his nose gently in a show of reprimand.  
"Stop that. It's my turn now."  
"Your turn to?"  
"I told you I'd get possessive, right? Well after that _little show_ of yours, I think I'm gonna do just that."  
Yuuya gives him a questioning look, but Sora just grins at him, reaching for his knife again.  
"You'll see."  
He moves further down on his hips to have proper access to both his chest and stomach, and caresses Yuuya's untouched right side, slowly, up his stomach to his chest and back down, fingertips digging just lightly into his skin. There's the slightest layer of sweat, drying almost as fast as it forms, and Sora wipes it away, tasting the shivers it leaves on Yuuya's skin under his hand.  
"... I should have kept this side for last," he chuckles, pressing his right hand on Yuuya's heart, catching a bit of cut skin with the callouses of his hand and making Yuuya moan.  
And Yuuya laughs through it, something happy and warm on his face that makes Sora pause.  
"What?"  
"Nothing," Yuuya answers. "Go on."  
"Come oooon," he whines, pressing a little harder and only succeeding in making Yuuya give another moaning laugh. "Tell me."  
"You're more romantic than you let on," Yuuya smiles, and Sora finds himself blushing, biting his lip and suddenly second guessing his entire plan.  
"I'm not..." he mutters, looking away, but his hand stays right there on Yuuya's chest, craddling every beat, his palm pressed and his fingers curving just a bit, as if he could reach in and cling.  
"Sora."  
He looks back up and gets caught by Yuuya's eyes, looking at him firm and gentle and open, telling him better than with words what Sora's still afraid to accept.  
He looks back down, takes a shaky breath, and bends forward to kiss where his hand had been.  
"... let me to this, okay?" he whispers. "I'm gonna chicken out otherwise."  
Yuuya doesn't answer and he feels grateful for it, hiding his face in Yuuya's chest just a little bit longer, trying to gather the feelings that had been threatening to spill.  
_Calm down, Sora. You're supposed to be in control here._  
Even though he's never really been, not when it comes to Yuuya. He's still afraid, in a way, of Yuuya's smiles. Yuuya makes him vulnerable, and everything is better but he's still not sure how to handle _that_.  
He listens to Yuuya's heart, right there against his face, separated only by thin, brittle layers of skin and bone and muscle.  
_He's here. He's staying here. You have all the time in the world, now._  
It's not entirely true, because everything still feels fragile to him, but he's already decided to put his faith in him, hasn't he? No point in turning back now.  
He takes a deep breath and straightens.

Yuuya's exposed skin suddenly feels much bigger than it was before, an endless expanse that he can't hope to completely touch or mark. And there's something else, twining with the excitement, that makes his heart beat slow and hard. No longer just playfulness, now. He's got more at stake in this, in letting his knife mark Yuuya's skin.  
Because Yuuya knows, knows him better than he thought or planned. He'll know there's more to it.  
To hell with it. He's done looking back.  
He twirls his knife again, to anchor himself and get used to its feeling in his hand, and bends down to draw the first incision down Yuuya's right side.  
He would have used the kanji if he dared, would have given in to the darker edge of his possessive side and taken the time to carve every stroke into him. But for something that he doesn't want to let scar, this would have to do.  
He goes a bit deeper than before, though, cutting through the skin at the end and making Yuuya tilt his head back and cry out, and the smile is back on his lips, unprompted and exhilarated, and Yuuya's voice is intoxicating.  
He lifts his knife, resists the urge to lick it, and angles it to work at Yuuya's skin again, drawing it through at a steady, dragging pace. Yuuya gasps out his name, then dissolves into a strangled cry when Sora's knife curves its course before he can finish saying it, the last sound melding into it incoherently.  
Sora finishes his line, feels his heart beat faster in his own chest.  
"You sound so great," he says with a grin. "Yuuuuya."  
Yuuya gives a little sob that almost sounds like a laugh, voice still melting into small moans whenever he breathes and reawakens the pain. The muscles of his stomach spasm slightly, and Sora massages them, works the trembling into shivers.  
"Relax, okay? I can't finish this if you're too tense."  
Yuuya whimpers and nods, and his stomach relaxes slightly, his breath artificially slow and deep.  
Sora brushes his fingers against him, up and down again, feeling the shape of his muscles until he's absolutely sure how he's doing this.  
"Okay, here we go."

He's careful with the first line, keeping his free hand close on Yuuya's stomach to make sure he doesn't move or tense too much, forcing his eyes on his knife rather than on Yuuya's face.  
But Yuuya just whimpers, and although Sora can feel some of his upper chest shifting, he keeps his stomach obediently still, barely trembling until Sora finishes his line and it deflates with a harsh, sobbing exhale.  
Sora looks up, sees stray tears fall from the corner of his eyes.  
"You're almost there, Yuuya. Almost there."  
_Don't rush it._  
He massages Yuuya's waist for a few seconds to warn and calm him, then starts on his last line. Horizontal first, slow and steady, until he reaches the end of the line and angles his knife.  
And he pulls it down and round, faster than before, slicing through with just an edge of violence that makes Yuuya cry out in an almost-scream, his head falling back in Sora's peripheric vision.  
"So--Sora--" Yuuya gasps as Sora's knife slows down. " _Sora--_ "  
Sora ends his pattern and stops. Takes a slow breath. Takes his knife out of Yuuya's skin. Looks up.  
"Yuuya?"  
Yuuya gasps, shudders, its wave crawling up his stomach and chest.  
"Yuuya, look at me."  
Yuuya lets out a shaky breath and looks up at him, his head tilting back forward a little from where it had been arched back. Sora grins, brings up his knife and waves it a little, his pride and playfulness not entirely feigned.  
"I'm dooone," he says before finally licking the side of his blade, making a show out of savouring the taste.  
He's definitely getting used to this.  
Yuuya swallows, closes his eyes for a few seconds, and slows his breath down from the irregular mess it had grown into for the last minutes. In, out, slow and shaky, until it finally grows deeper and a bit more steady. He opens his eyes and looks up at Sora again.  
"You were..." he starts, voice light and a bit dreamy, "... writing?"  
Sora's cheeks burn from the sudden proud grin that stretches them.  
"Yep. Here, let me show you."  
He puts the knife down, for good this time, and lies down next to Yuuya, propping his right elbow on his stomach and his chin on his hand so he can trace the letters on Yuuya's chest and stomach with his left.  
So  
Ra

He's halfway through the second one when Yuuya pieces it together and starts laughing silently, the last residual tears falling out of his eyes.  
"I should have known..."  
"You signed up for this," Sora reminds him.  
"Yeah, I know." He pauses, closes his eyes and breathes in, more comfortably than Sora expected. "... Sora?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Me too. And I'm not going anywhere. Promise."  
Sora finds himself choking a little.  
"Wh--don't just _say_ things like that." Deep breath. _Calm down, Sora._ "... and I know."  
Yuuya just smiles, and Sora tries to get his focus back by following the bleeding lines with his fingers again.  
"... I should've negotiated for a camera," he notes after a couple of silent minutes, half as a joke and half because he finds he still can't tear his eyes away from Yuuya's skin, the picture he makes with his hands tied, with his chest covered in red lines, with Sora's name etched in blood on his skin. "I want this as my phone background forever."  
He's halfway through tracing the second half of his name again when Yuuya speaks up.  
"... you can if you want."  
Sora freezes.  
"Wh-- _What?_ "  
"Take a picture. If you want. Just--no background. I don't want anyone else to see it. Just for you."  
Sora thinks his heart just stopped.  
"... really?"  
"Yeah."  
And just like that he's swept out of his depth again, like it's Yuuya who's carrying him instead of being tied down.  
He wonders, yet again, if he'll ever be able to look at Yuuya and not be a little afraid of how strongly his heart beats.  
He swallows, looks up at Yuuya's eyes so he can be sure, absolutely sure, that Yuuya really means it and he's not imagining this or taking more than what's actually offered. Yuuya's eyes are steady, quiet but steady, and he's the one who feels like a fidgety prey in the moments before he makes himself nod.  
"... I'll go get it. I won't be long, okay?"  
"Okay."

He slips off the bed and the warmth of Yuuya's body and crosses the room to where his Duel Disk is sitting, propped on top of his folded jacket. It feels cold in his hands as he fiddles with it on his way back to the bed, launching it and opening the camera mode before climbing back on the bed and straddling Yuuya's hips.  
A slight feeling of nausea presses at his lower stomach. Nerves. He gives Yuuya a smile and kneels up, trying to get the best angle to capture both Yuuya's body and his expression, the blush on his face and blood on his chest.  
His finger hovers above the capture icon.  
_Don't hit the wrong button_ , a voice that sounds like his but that he hadn't heard in a long time supplies to his mind, sarcastic and cruel.  
And he knows, suddenly, why having someone helpless at his feet again would make him feel sick, why his hands are so unsteady on his disk.  
_Don't make me laugh_ , he thinks angrily, shoving it back in the depth of his memory where it belongs.  
He's over this.  
"Hey, Yuuya," he calls, louder and firmer than he expected.  
"Huh?"  
He breathes in deeply, lets himself be blanketed by his presence. Smiles.  
"Look at me, okay? I don't want to miss it." And then, spurred by Yuuya's eyes looking right at the camera. "You look amazing."  
Yuuya blushes and he hits capture right on time, taking a moment to savour his victory before turning the disk off and lying back on Yuuya's chest.

"Sora?"  
"Hm?"  
"Are you okay? You were out of it for a second..."  
"I just thought of something dumb." He feels Yuuya shift and looks up at him, smiling. "I promise. I'm fine." Yuuya looks at him for a few seconds, and Sora thinks that he'll have to actually explain, to re-awaken the discomfort he managed to silence, but Yuuya just nods and takes deep, slow breaths that Sora can't help but follow. "... what about you? Does it hurt?"  
Yuuya chuckles.  
"Well yeah. Wasn't that the point?"  
Sora finds himself smiling despite himself, and it washes away some of the awkwardness that had been settling on him as he came down. He breathes in the scent of Yuuya's sweat and blood, and it's more reassuring than the smell of blood has a right to be.  
"Okay, does it hurt _too much_? Do you want me to clean it?"  
"Not yet." Yuuya shifts under him, and Sora finds himself nestled better in the curve made by his arm. "Stay like this for a bit, okay? It's warm."  
It is.  
"... yeah."  
He stays like that for a while, following Yuuya's breath with his own, eyes idly following the trail of blood that started next to Yuuya's collarbone, hand spread on his chest in an almost-hug.  
"... hey, Sora?"  
"Yeah?"  
Yuuya stretches his neck a little to reach his ear, mouth smiling and voice warm against him, and whispers.  
"It looks great on you too."

Sora hides his face in his shoulder, blushing from the story behind the words.  
"... thanks."


End file.
